


Many the Miles

by Tabithian



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Police, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4525077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I feel like I'm trapped in some godawful sitcom,” Jason moans, forehead resting on his desk. “Fucking seriously.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Many the Miles

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on [this post](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/125900575934/jason-n-dicks-homes), with a touch of [this one](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/125799539744/superlockedinthephandom) thrown in, because why not, really.
> 
> Also, all the terrible buddy cop shows I watched growing up, so. :D?

“I feel like I'm trapped in some godawful sitcom,” Jason moans, forehead resting on his desk. “Fucking seriously.”

There's a vague sort of _hmm_ , and, “Hey, no, I feel for you man, but I still need you to sign this, you know? My boss has been on me about being late with the deliveries.”

Jason groans, lifts his head to see the squirrelly looking courier holding out his clipboard.

“Why the hell do you come to me?” Jason asks. “I'm not in charge here.”

The courier shrugs, snaps his gum. “They all send me to you.”

Because of course they would, the assholes.

“God, fine, give me the damn thing.”

The kid grins as he hands the clipboard over. Jason gives it a cursory glance before signing his name on the dotted line. Looks up at the kid.

“What do you even deliver here, anyway? I never see you with anything.”

The kid _smirks_ , grabs the clipboard back and flicks the sunglasses resting on the top of his head so they drop down to cover his eyes. 

“Ask your boss,” he says, waves his fingers at Jason and leaves, whistling a jaunty little tune.

Jason stares after him, wonders what kind of trouble he'd get into if he tried to arrest him. Decides it's probably not worth the trouble it'd bring him because everyone seems to like the little shit.

Lets his gaze slide sideways to where his so-called partner is napping, chair tipped back, feet up on his desk, magazine draped over his face.

“Hey, asshole,” Jason says, throws a balled up piece of paper at the jerk. “Want to, I don't know, solve some crime today? Switch things up a bit, you know.”

Dick mumbles something incoherent, twitches, and then fucking _snores_. 

Jason looks around, tries to see if anyone notices. Sees that his partner is a goddamn disgrace of a human being, of a police officer, what the hell, but no.

No, of course not. 

They're all busy doing their jobs, not taking a damn nap in the middle of the day, and why did Jason ever think it'd be anything else? 

“I hate you so much,” Jason mutters, heartfelt. “So goddamn much.”

********

It's not like Jason hates his life, no, just.

“How much longer?”

He can hear yelling on his landlady's end of the call, hammering and sawing and a really fucking disturbing screech.

“Hey,” Jason points out. “If you're having someone murdered over there, maybe don't let me hear? I'm sort of a police officer.”

Jason has the badge to show for it and everything.

Another screech, this one a little more bloodcurdling that cuts off in the middle and what the hell is going on over there?

 _”Like you could pin it on me.”_

“How fucking long, Brown?”

There's a mean little chuckle, his landlady enjoying his suffering. 

_”A couple of weeks, but that's just an estimate. Your boy really did a number on the place.”_

Jason

“That moron isn't anything but a pain in my ass - “

 _Fuck_.

Jason sighs, takes the phone away from his ear while Stephanie laughs herself sick, howling fit to wake the dead.

“I hate you.”

 _”Your boy got the place shot up,”_ Stephanie retorts, on the edge of laughter. _”You really think we're going to get everything cleared so fast?”_

Jason.

_”Suck it up, Jason, and be glad I'm not making you pay for the repairs.”_

“Dick's the one who - “

 _”I like him,”_ Stephanie says, and Jason can hear the smirk. _”Nice butt, too.”_

Jason looks up at the ceiling, for patience maybe, or maybe just the strength to carry on. 

“I hate you.”

Stephanie makes a sympathetic noise, says, _“I hate you too, Jason. Tell your boy I said hello.”_

Jason hangs up on her, sighs, because his _life_.

********

So the thing about Dick, is.

He's an asshole.

Like. 

The stealth kind, because everyone loves him. Thinks the sun shines out of his ass, that the bastard can do no wrong.

“How can you live like this?” Jason asks, nudges an empty pizza box with his foot.

Dick shrugs, tosses his jacket at the back of his couch and misses, makes a little _what can you do_ noise and walks on by, just letting it lay on the floor like that's an acceptable thing to do.

Jason's fingers twitch, but no. 

No.

Not his fucking problem, the fact that Dick's a damn slob and Jason's stuck with it for however long it takes Stephanie to get his building cleared by the city.

Looks over to where Dick's scrounging in his fridge, humming to himself.

And.

It's.

Okay, the fucker saved Jason's life with that little fiasco, yes. 

Maybe coming in through the bedroom window was a bit overkill, though, because Jason had had a front door at the time. There was a doorbell and everything – and the fuckers trying to kill him had decided it would be a fantastic idea to get to him through his balcony because why the hell not, this is Gotham, but. 

“Hey,” Jason says. 

Hates that he has to do this, just a little. Thank the bastard for not letting some criminal scumbags kill him, keeping Jason alive a little longer. 

Dick looks up over the top of the fridge door at him, makes an inquisitive little noise, and oh, God, there's something hanging out of his mouth, what the fuck.

“You know what,” Jason says, averting his gaze. “Never mind, just. Yeah, no.”

Dick shrugs, goes back to poking through his fridge and Jason.

His _life_.

********

“Why the long face?”

Jason looks up, sees the damn courier kid leaning against his desk.

“What?”

The kid shrugs, waves a hand at Jason. “Your face.”

Jason.

“You know I'm a cop, right?” Jason asks, just to be sure. 

Because yes, this is a police precinct, and yes, there's a badge on a chain around Jason's neck, but.

The kid's never seemed all that bright, really.

“Eh,” the kid says, waggles his hand in a so-so gesture. “Debatable.”

It's.

It's really kind of tempting to shoot the little shit, at the moment.

No one's looking, he'd probably get away with it.

“What the hell do you deliver?” Jason asks, because once again, he doesn't see the kid with any packages, or letters or anything but that attitude of his and the fucking clipboard.

The kid grins, leans in close enough for Jason to see the pitiful stubble he obviously thinks is some breed of goatee. “Ask your boss.”

Jason.

“Give me the damn clipboard.”

********

There are dirty dishes and empty cereal boxes where there shouldn't be any and Jason.

“I've only been gone for couple of hours, what the hell happened here?”

Dick, sprawled over his couch shrugs, flips through his book. “Didn't feel like cooking.”

So of course Dick decided cereal would be a great choice instead?

“How the hell are you even still alive?”

Because this. 

Things like this, are not the only horrible decisions Dick makes in his life.

Another shrug, Dick grinning up at him through his fringe. “My dashing good looks?”

Jason.

“Oh my God, shut up. Seriously.”

********

“No,” Jason says, when the courier smirks at him. “You keep your goddamn mouth shut.”

Because Dick is.

Dick is slumped against Jason, chair rolled over to Jason's side of the desk because the two of them were going over files, trying to piece clues together, and Dick.

The asshole had fallen asleep before Jason realized, and he's been so goddamned tired lately - 

“Mum's the word,” the courier says, mimes zipping his mouth up and throwing away the key, and hands the clipboard to Jason to sign.

********

Jason hates to admit it, but.

Dick's.

“Where did you find this?”

Dick grins, shrugs. 

“Little bird,” he says, and laughs at his own, what, joke? 

Is that. 

Does Dick think that's a joke? 

Because.

Jason doesn't even know.

“Okay,” Jason says, turns back to his desk and pretends he can't hear Dick occasionally laughing to himself like a complete jackass.

Because every so often, Dick's a decent cop.

Manages to worm information out of people most people can't, and just shrugs, this little smile on his face when people ask him how the hell he did it.

Takes pieces of evidence and makes them fit together in a way that. Maybe doesn't always make sense, but is one step closer to figuring out why the hell some sick fuck did whatever they did, how they can take them down, make Gotham a little safer. (Or just give some poor bastard closure, you have to learn to take what you can get in a city like Gotham.)

This time, he's found.

It's.

“Goddamn it,” Jason sighs.

Looks at Dick, who's looking back at him, eyebrows raised.

“You want to go solve some crime today?”

Dick grins, sharp, and this.

This is the cop Jason's glad to have for a partner.

********

So.

In a city like Gotham, it's a good bet someone wants you dead at least part of the time.

Or maybe that's just Jason, who knows.

“Friend of yours?” Jason asks.

Eyes the weedy looking guy in the Army surplus jacket, gun aimed at them.

“No,” Dick says, flashes Jason a smile. “Thought he was one of yours.”

They're cops, is the thing.

Couple of detectives with a few solved cases under their belt, hell of a lot more waiting for them to close the file on.

And.

That means they ask a lot of questions, talk to a lot of people. Some of them don't appreciate it that much, take exception. (Try to kill them a time or two.)

Sometimes people hold grudges long after Jason and Dick send them to jail, want their little bit of revenge on the fuckers who caught them.

Sometimes Jason and Dick don't even know why someone's trying to kill them. Just wake up to some idiots crashing through their balcony and their partner creeping in through their bedroom window. (Or maybe that's just Jason again.) 

Sometimes, though, they just.

Poke their noses into something they shouldn't without calling for backup, and get caught by the sketchy looking guy keeping watch.

Jason looks at Dick.

Dick looks at Jason.

“I fucking hate you,” Jason says.

Holds his hands up, Dick doing the same next to him.

********

Things have been getting better in Gotham, bit by painful bit.

Crime rate's going down, too damn slow by far, but it's something.

And Jason and Dick, they do their part.

Chip away at the cases that get handed to them, bit by painful bit.

Put away murderers and people who do worse, fucked up sickos that seem to thrive in Gotham.

Occasionally they'll get things like this, though. 

Or, it's more thing like this intersect with their usual cases. One dead body leads to two, leads to Dick getting an anonymous tip to them checking out a warehouse and getting caught.

Taken to see the brain behind the whole mess, and.

There are still bastards like this guy, plump little fucker with a horrible British accent and a goddamn monocle.

Shit ton of weapons sitting in the warehouse Jason and Dick get led into, more than enough to kill for, bodies piling up. (Another two for the news cycle after tonight, looks like.)

And.

“Christ, kid,” Jason says, feels a spike of disappointment. “I thought you were smarter than this.”

Well, no. 

Not really, just.

Didn't think the kid would be involved in this kind of shit. (No real reason why, other than Jason kind of likes him. Wishful thinking on his part, probably.)

The courier shrugs, little grin on his face. “Got to make a living somehow,” the kid says. “Might as well be this way.”

Jason.

Looks back at the guy in the suit.

“I've been looking forward to this,” the guy says, like everything he's learned about being a bad guy he learned from watching terrible movies.

Gestures at one of the goons standing back, letting his boss have the limelight, and takes a mean looking gun from the goon. Looks down its sights, then _smirks_ as he raises it. Aims it at Jason, because of course he gets the honor of going first here, of course he does.

Jason looks at Dick, who's - 

Dick's looking at the _kid_.

“Dick?”

Dick slides a look at Jason, gives him an apologetic smile, says, “Hey, so you remember when someone ate your lunch last week?”

What.

“What the hell, Dick?”

“It was me,” Dick says, fucking _confesses_.

Jason.

“I fucking knew it,” Jason says, turns to glare at him, ignores the fact he's probably going to die here, pissed at Dick for eating his food even though his name was on it because why the fuck not. “You're such an asshole.”

Dick.

Dick grins, eyes going to the guy in the suit who's just staring at them like. 

Well, like they're goddamn nutjobs.

“I keep asking, and you never give me the recipe, what was I supposed to do?”

“How about not stealing my food, for starters?” Jason demands, right as the power flickers.

Everyone looks up, wary.

“Rats,” the courier says, dismissive. “Got some at my place. They get into the walls, chew on the wiring.”

A long moment of silence, the goons looking at one another, their boss for reassurance, and.

“Get ready for it,” Dick says, low enough only Jason hears.

Jason looks at him, and Dick's looking at the kid again, eyes narrowed slightly.

The kid's looking back, odd little smile on his face, and.

“I hate you,” Jason says. “So goddamn much.”

“I know,” Dick says, grins.

A moment later the door to the warehouse blows in, people in tactical vests swarm into the warehouse, identifying themselves as ATF agents and throwing Jason and Dick the floor along with the goons, better safe than sorry and all that. 

(Or maybe they're just assholes, who knows.)

********

“What do you mean it's going to be another week?”

There's no yelling or murdering going on at Stephanie's end of the call this time, at least none that Jason knows of, so.

 _”Structural damage,_ Stephanie says flatly. _”They're saying it was probably the grenade that did it.”_

Probably, yeah. 

“Right, great,” Jason says, hangs up before Stephanie can say anything else and looks over to where Dick is chatting with the kid, fucking undercover ATF agent, what the hell.

There had been a lot of confusion, after the warehouse.

Gordon yelling at Jason and Dick, threatening to kick them off the force for being so fucking stupid. Yelling at the courier, sorry, ATF agent, for getting them involved.

_”He was supposed to pass that information on to you, actually, Commissioner, there was a note and everything.”_

Gordon yelling at Dick for losing the damn note (and then yelling at him some more for the principle of the thing) and Jason wondering if he should put into a transfer, get out of Gotham, away from the crazies.

That goddamn ATF agent, Tim, being old friends with Dick and being a smug little shit about it. 

“You never asked your boss,” Tim, says, smirks at Jason, when he realizes Jason's trying to kill him with his mind.

“Didn't think it was worth the trouble,” Jason says honestly.

How the hell was he supposed to know Tim was using his cover as a way to touch base with Gordon?

Dick snorts, shares a look with Tim. 

“Okay, right. So how the hell do the two of you know each other?”

It's been bothering Jason for a while, now that he thinks about it.

Dick's been.

He's always friendly, smiley little bastard, but when Tim showed up - 

It was just. 

Weird.

Didn't really pay any attention to Tim, and Tim didn't take much note of him. 

Always giving Jason shit.

Dick laughs, collapses over his desk from the force of it while Tim gives him a fond look.

“Dick, here,” Tim says, “tried to arrest me when we met.”

What.

“We were both undercover,” Tim says, rolls his eyes, smacks Dick on the back of his head when he sputters something incomprehensible. “And he tried to arrest me.”

“You tried to arrest me back!” Dick yells, like the mature adult he is. 

Jason looks at them, two idiot peas in a pod, sighs and asks, “Why am I not even surprised?”

Because really.


End file.
